Priorities
by GreenLoki
Summary: Bucky never would have imagined just how much Clint meant to him until he almost lost him.


Priorities

It was hell. The sky was black, pellets of hard rain and shot-gun bullets falling from the sky, making it hard to see, much less pay attention, to everything that was happening. They were all relying on each other to watch their backs, to see what they couldn't. Phil Coulson was barking in their ear, shouting orders and warning them if Hydra-agents were getting too close. It got to the point where Bucky didn't even know who he was shooting at anymore.

And then there was the fact that, despite the chaos that was ensuing around him, he could barely give all of his attention to it. There was no way that he could when half of the time, his gaze was upward into the sky, searching through bleary eyes for a figure running along the roof-tops. It was hard to imagine that a year ago, he had been on his own. Never would he have thought to being a part of a team, to having a family with the Avengers, to having _him_. Priorities that he never knew to have were shifted, things that had once seemed clear, becoming more and more transparent with each day that passed.

And when it came to days like _this_ , when the sky was ripped open and all he could hear were the sounds of gunfire and shouts of anger and fear, his nerves were constantly standing on edge. He didn't like being so far away.

It was bound to happen, of course. With the way the day was shaping out, it was only a matter of time before something horrible happened. And it had to happen to _him_. Fucking tragic, he was, and it had fear shooting through Bucky, had his heart pounding so painfully against his rib-cage, he thought he was going to die. Because one second he saw him running along the roof-top and, the next, Phil was shouting that he was going down.

Shooting a hole in his assailant's head, Bucky looked up just in time to see a flash of red fly by. His heart was in his throat, his mouth dropping open, because _he_ was fucking _falling_ down from the building. Natasha was shouting something, Steve was running, Hulk was roaring, and all he could do was stand frozen in place as Iron Man snagged him from the air and flew him to the Helicarrier that was stationed in the sky several miles away.

Yeah, his priorities had definitely changed, all right.

-x- -x- -x-

He felt like a caged animal. He felt seconds away from lashing out and _hurting_ something. He wondered if that was how Steve felt whenever Tony got hurt. Perhaps it was, but Steve always had a sort of composed panic going on with him whenever he was waiting outside of the MedLab. Bucky could practically see him sitting in the chair closest to the door, his back straight and his eyes locked on the wall. He never looked like a caged animal, but maybe Steve was better at hiding that sort of thing than Bucky was.

Or maybe that was why he always spent hours in the gym at the Tower, punching holes into punching-bags and wrecking gym-equipment.

Bucky didn't have that type of control that Steve possessed. He had already cursed Phil out and threatened Natasha if she even thought of asking him if he was okay again. Hill knew not to come looking for him now. At least she knew when to give him space.

Unlike some people.

He could feel his presence the second he walked around the corner, concerned eyes locked on his pacing form. But Bucky didn't care about concern. In anything, the fact that he was so concerned only made Bucky want to lash out and start screaming and breaking things. Because that meant there was a reason to be afraid. There was a reason to worry. And he didn't want to believe that. He couldn't, because _he_ was strong and _he_ was resilient and _he_ couldn't get hurt. _He couldn't_ …

"Has Banner come out yet?" Steve's voice came after several minutes of silence – or at least that's what Bucky assumed. Seconds were bleeding into minutes and minutes seeping into illusion. Time meant nothing to him right now. He was trapped in a nightmare and he just wanted to wake up already.

"No." Bucky answered, swallowing thickly.

Another reason why he didn't want Steve – or anyone else, for that matter – near him was because the man knew him, knew that behind the walls that he built around himself was something far more vulnerable. Having Steve near him had always made him feel the need to let those walls down, to not protect himself so heavily in his presence. But now Bucky was afraid to let those walls down, because he knew what might happen. And he wasn't ready for it.

"He's going to be fine, Buck –"

Those were not the words that he needed to hear in that moment. Spinning around, Bucky saw red. "You don't know that!" He shouted, voice echoing off walls that glistened like metal. His breath grew ragged and he could hear his blood singing in his ears. "You don't fucking know that, Steve!"

"I know Clint." The reply came – one that sounded calm and re-assuring and both glorious and hateful to Bucky. "So I know he's going to be fine."

"He was shot in the chest and he fell from a fucking six-story building." Bucky gritted out through clenched teeth. "He's human. He doesn't have the serum running through his veins. He's fucking _human_."

Instead of running away, instead of turning around and leaving Bucky alone to his fear and anger, Steve walked closer to him. His hands were stuck in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched. From where he was standing so close, Bucky could see the faint bruises that were either appearing or disappearing. It had been hours since the fight. Steve hadn't gone to the Tower with the rest of the Avengers, Buck realised. He had stayed with him on the Helicarrier.

"He'll survive, because he has you." Steve shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your strength will give him the strength he needs to get better."

Bucky swallowed down the wave of emotion that crashed so powerfully into him. He wished Steve's words held truth, because he didn't know what he would do if Clint didn't make it.

-x- -x- -x-

His sternum was cracked in places, he had a collapsed lung. He also had a concussion from the impact of Iron Man catching him. But he was alive and Bucky was standing beside his bed, looking down at his pale face, his ridiculous grin, and his gorgeous vibrant coloured eyes that were clouded due to the painkillers that were circulating throughout his system.

"You do realise," Bucky started after several moments of silence – moments that were all illusion, because he was most certainly trapped in Clint, "that I'm never letting you out of my sight now."

Humming, Clint ran a hand down Bucky's arm before latching his fingers around his wrist. The grip was weak, not at all as strong as it usually was, but that was fine. Bucky basked in the feel of the warmth, in what little strength the grip had. "I don't think I'll mind too much," he said, "especially since you'll have to baby me for a month until I get better."

His brows rose, lips stretching into a smile. "So nothing new. Got it."

"Fuck you." Clint laughed, eyes slipping shut.

Without even thinking – he never had to when it came to Clint – Bucky leaned down and pressed their lips together. He heard Clint's breath hitch, a sound that was mostly surprise, before his mouth opened, beckoning Bucky to deepen the kiss, which he did without hesitation. It felt good kissing him. It felt almost as good as Bruce telling him that he could see Clint. He felt almost as good as seeing him since the incident, felt almost as good as touching him.

"I'll kick your ass if you ever do something like this to me again." Bucky said when the kiss ended. He didn't pull away. His forehead rested against Clint's, their lips brushing, breaths mingling between the two of them.

"I'm sorry." Clint replied, hand coming up to grip his arm. "I didn't see the fucker until the last possible second and by then …"

He trailed off at a good moment. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on Clint as much as he could without hurting him. He could remember the feel of the rain hitting him and running down his skin, knowing that he'll never feel good about the rain again. He could remember the feel of the chaos around him, the air stifling and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could remember the shocked horror of the screams of panic when Clint fell from the building, his descent stopped only by Iron Man catching him before he crashed into the ground –

"Hey." Clint said quietly, bringing Bucky back from the day before. He opened his eyes and was shocked to feel moisture building up. Clint didn't seem alarmed, though. His gaze softened and he brushed a hand down the side of his face. "I'm okay."

"You're okay now." Bucky retorted. He sounded harsh, even to his own ears. "But what happens if you get hurt again? What am I supposed to do then?"

"It comes with the job. Sometimes it happens."

It wasn't a lie, but Bucky wished that it was. It would make it easier. But Clint wasn't lying. It made breathing just a bit harder, knowing that this might not be the last time Clint ended up in the MedLab, strapped to machines, looking pale and broken. Bucky sighed heavily and pressed his face into the crook of Clint's neck, inhaling deeply. He still smelled of rain and gun-powder, of sweat and battle. It was both a comfort and a fear.

"Any way I can convince you to retire?" Bucky murmured.

Clint snorted. "Probably not."

Sitting up, Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of Clint's head before standing. The adrenaline and the fear of losing Clint was slowly abating, which caused him to pay closer attention to his own wounds. His muscles were sore and his head was pounding. He also took noticed in the way he was favouring his left leg. Bruises littered his body and he could feel air through parts of his uniform where he either dodged bullets or wasn't quick enough to avoid the blade of a knife. Those would all fade, though. Were probably already healing.

"Do you know when I can break you out of here?" Bucky finally asked, moving closer to the window. Outside, the sky was still a grey colour, though it wasn't as dark as yesterday was, which was a relief. From the view of the window, he could easily pinpoint the building that Clint had fallen from, which caused something to curl protectively in his gut. He turned away from the window when he heard Clint snort.

"I wouldn't hold your breath." He said, a fond look in his eyes. "I don't know if they're more worried about the cracked sternum or the collapsed lung."

The protectiveness in his gut clenched all the more again. Bucky furrowed his brow and moved closer, the need to touch him growing stronger with every second he was away from him. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm tired. And I feel as though I fell off a building." The glare that Bucky sent him had Clint wincing. "Sorry. Too soon."

"It will forever be too soon."

Clint smiled. "Come on. It's a little funny."

Rolling his eyes, Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips against Clint's once more. "Please stop talking."

"Fine." Clint sighed contently, his eyes slipping closed.

He didn't want to move, but he could tell that Clint had overexerted himself. He was still fresh from his injuries and would need time to heal and mend his wounds. He also needed sleep. Bucky could feel his breathing evening out some, even though he was still awake. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Bucky moved from where he was sitting on the bed to the chair that was positioned close by.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Bucky said, watching as Clint's eyelashes fluttered shut.

And _that_ would be his number one priority. There was nowhere else he would rather be.


End file.
